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“Deku, I’m hungry!”
Those words echo with all the entitlement and petulance only a child could muster. Izuku smiles as he looks up from the steaming pot. The aroma of food is almost enough to make his mouth water.
“I’m almost done,” he replies, voice softer than usual.
From the other side of the room, Katsuki huffs. He doesn’t question further, though, quickly busying himself with his drawings again. Izuku can’t really see what he’s making from here: all he can tell is that the previously white page is now covered in a series of bright, vivid crayon colors.
Izuku wonders if Katsuki will show him the end result. He truly hopes he does.
He focuses back on the task at hand. Today Izuku decided keeping the meal light yet flavorful enough to appease Katsuki’s demanding palate was the best choice. Hopefully, he’d get enough time after the afternoon nap to prepare a proper share of spicy food. Chicken, for tonight. Izuku really wanted to try his hand at seasoning some again.
But those are thoughts for later. Izuku has a spoiled little boy with a voracious appetite to satisfy.
Izuku fills Katsuki’s plate with small slices of fish, rice and salad. He brings it to sit at the kitchen table with Katsuki… who scrunches up his face at the sight of the food.
“No.”
Oh, how could one single word be so powerful? Izuku’s smile turns a little pained. He knows how much of an uphill battle feeding Katsuki can be. It takes a lot of patience and willingness to out stubborn the stubbornness king—but it is also one of the most rewarding things Izuku’s allowed to experience.
He wonders if Aunt Mitsuki felt the same, back then. Or maybe this part was left for Uncle Masaru? Izuku isn’t sure. He’d have to ask them next time they meet, if his husband is comfortable with it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try it?” Izuku quietly scoops some food onto the spoon. He looks at Katsuki with eyes full of mischief. “Don’t you wanna be big and strong like All Might?”
This seems to do the trick. Katsuki looks at him with suspicion in his crimson eyes. At the very least, it is not absolute disgust anymore. Izuku takes that little fact as the victory it is.
“All Might wouldn’t eat that stuff,” Katsuki retorts. Izuku doesn’t miss the hint of doubt in his voice.
“Oh, but he does... He eats lots of salad and fruit and all kinds of healthy food. That’s why he’s so strong!” Izuku raises the spoon again. “Besides... Only babies won’t eat their veggies.”
Katsuki’s face instantly turns into a furious shade of red, his eyes full of righteous anger. “I’m not a baby! I’m a big boy like All Might!”
“Show me, then. Say, ah!”
Katsuki opens his mouth. He glares at Izuku as he returns his attention to the drawing. Izuku scoops more food onto the spoon, bringing it to Katsuki’s mouth as soon as he notices he stopped chewing. This time, Katsuki accepts it all without complaint, completely absorbed by the task at hand.
It is all Izuku needs to know he won this little battle. It takes no time to finish the entire plate after that. Katsuki is entertained enough with his drawing that Izuku has more than enough time to do the dishes and put the kitchen back into relative order. He ends up making some fresh orange juice in the end, hoping it’s enough to please Katsuki.
“Deku,” he calls again between sips of his juice. Izuku hums, gently encouraging him to continue. “For you.”
Izuku blinks. It’s the drawing Katsuki was working on—now Izuku can see it’s a drawing of himself and Katsuki walking hand in hand in what looks like a very green park. The Izuku in the drawing is notably smaller than Katsuki.
He smiles softly. Izuku pats Katsuki’s hair twice. “Thank you,” he says. He doesn’t mention that there’s an orange wet spot on the paper, nor the obvious fingerprints on the edge of it. There’s no need to, for they only serve to endear the artwork to Izuku even more. “That cartoon you like will start soon. Do you want to watch it together?”
Katsuki’s eyes seemed to sparkle at his words. He stands up from his chair, pulling Izuku with him to the living room. Izuku can’t help but wince at the absolute mess that welcomes them. There are toys everywhere, from little hero dolls to pulshies about half the size of one Izuku. There are more crayons and coloring books scattered around, too, probably from when Katsuki was playing this morning.
Izuku sighs, sitting down on a cushion at the corner of the room. He settles down the only thing he managed to grab from the kitchen on the table on his side: a water feeding bottle. When he raises his gaze again, it’s to find Katsuki already settled on his own cushion, an All Might doll which outfit perfectly matches his own onesie in hand. Katsuki is humming the opening theme of his cartoon under his breath, a little sound that Izuku takes as a sign of happiness and contentment.
He feels content, too, seeing Katsuki living his truth so freely and happily. Izuku smiles, letting his body relax.
“Sing with me, Deku!” Katsuki calls out.
And Izuku does, even if he stumbles on the lyrics and skips some words and Katsuki laughs at him for it. It doesn’t matter, not when Katsuki smiles like this. It’s this, this smile that makes everything worth it. Izuku wouldn’t give up any of this for the world.
Izuku loses count of how many little episodes they go through before Katsuki starts yawning. Izuku quickly stands up and starts his own perfectly practiced dance. He starts collecting the scattered toys and puts them away one by one. The curtains are eventually closed, and the sofa cleared out of any stray object that’s not Katsuki’s favorite blanket and a fluffy pillow.
Izuku glances around, and nods to himself in approval.
“It’s time to sleep, dear,” Izuku says gently. Katsuki glares and pouts at him. He shakes his head firmly, holding his little bunny plushie in his arms. Izuku smiles. “It’s okay. Mr Bunny can stay with you.”
It’s as if all the fight in Katsuki’s body disappears at the reassurance. He stretches his arms towards Izuku. Izuku doesn’t hesitate in scooping him into his arms. He puts Katsuki down on the sofa with care. The last thing he wants is to make him uncomfortable, after all.
Izuku kneels by Katsuki’s side on the floor. His fingers card gently through blond locks and a low, quiet hum fills the space that was once filled with the blasting music of a children’s cartoon. Katsuki’s eyelids grow heavier by the second, until they close definitively and his breathing eases out. It’s so easy now, putting Katsuki to sleep—so different from the first time they did it and he cried his lungs out for over an hour.
The memory brings a small smile to Izuku’s lips. They truly came a long way, didn’t they?
Izuku closes his eyes. It was only meant to be a brief blink of eyes, but the exhaustion clinging to his bones decided otherwise. The last thing he sees before falling asleep is Katsuki’s soft expression, and the sound of his breath follows Izuku into his dreams.
***
“Katsuki?”
The name escapes Izuku’s lips before his thoughts properly catch up to him. He can tell some good hours passed—the air is considerably colder than before, and Izuku feels surprisingly well-rested. He frowns at the blanket covering his legs, though. This was supposed to be on Katsuki. In fact, it should be Katsuki lying here at all, not Izuku.
But where is him?
Izuku stands up. He checks the kitchen first. It’s empty and still spotless, without any sign of a mischievous kid walking around. He looks in the bathroom and the office next; both turn out to be just as empty. Izuku steps into the bedroom next.
His eyes immediately go to Katsuki. He’s just finishing pulling a shirt over his head, hair humid as if he just stepped out of the shower. By the faint vapor still filling their en suite, that’s likely the case.
Izuku hesitates. Katsuki’s eyes meet his own. His voice sounds low and deep: “Izuku.”
Izuku, not Deku. Their agreed upon sign that it’s over and that Kacchan, Izuku’s husband, is back.
Kacchan’s arms are strong and warm around him. Izuku feels safer than he’s ever been. It’s a good feeling. Izuku hopes he can feel it many more times in the future. “Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Nonsense,” Kacchan retorts. He kisses the top of Izuku’s hair. “Thank you for indulging me again.”
“No. Thank you for trusting me with this.” Kacchan’s trust means the world for Izuku, especially when it comes to something so intimate and vulnerable. “I love you.”
Kacchan smiles at him. The sight of it puts the very sun to shame. “I love you too, my Izuku.”
And that’s all Izuku needs to find his own happiness.